


At the Edge of the Wilds

by oOAchilliaOo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/pseuds/oOAchilliaOo
Summary: At the edge of the wilds when the war is almost won Cullen can finally relax…or rather collapse.





	At the Edge of the Wilds

Cullen fell to his knees. His breathing, which seconds before had been fast and shallow, faded into a slow dull thud. He blinked, trying desperately to bring the world back into focus even as it blurred before his eyes. Amid all the confusion his grip had loosened on his sword hilt and he immediately tightened it on reflex, his knuckles whitening with the effort. The sensation grounded him, reminded him of the pressing danger and urgency of his task.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his chest and the aching from every part of his body, and forced the world back into focus. For a brief moment everything was clear: the temple of Mythal ahead of him, the bodies of soldiers from both sides scattered all around, the faint sound of his men retreating through the forest… He couldn’t see the Inquisitor’s party, but they had to be well into the temple by now.

Gingerly, he dragged one leg forwards, his boot barely finding purchase on the lake floor. It wasn’t enough. As soon as he started to stand it slipped and sent him tumbling headfirst into the water. Fresh pain blossomed from his temple. It took all his strength to fight off the unrelenting darkness and stay conscious long enough to roll onto his back.

He breathed steadily, slowly, in and out before absentmindedly reaching up to prod his head wound. The fact that his fingers came away glistening red with his own blood should probably have concerned him more than it did, but as it was, all he could care about was the warmth of it trickling down from his temple, a nice contrast to the cool shallow water gently lapping at him. 

Time slipped away from him, drifting for minutes or even hours before the sound of splashing footsteps brought him back to consciousness. Dimly he felt he should at least verify whether it was friend or foe who approached but somehow he couldn’t summon the energy even to turn his head. Thankfully the issue was rendered moot moments later when Leliana dropped to her knee beside him.

She made a tutting sound in the back of her throat, reminding him instinctively of the noise his mother used to make when he or his siblings had misbehaved in some way. If he’d had the energy, he would have laughed at the idea.

“What happened to you?” she muttered to herself. 

“A little thing called war, perhaps?” he rasped, regretting the smile that pulled at his lip only because it hurt so much. 

All concern in Leliana’s demeanour vanished instantly. 

“So you are alive then?” Her answering smirk didn’t quite reach her eyes. It worried him. He must look pretty terrible if Leliana was genuinely concerned. “Can you stand?” 

Honestly, he wasn’t actually sure, but he’d be dammed if he admitted it. With a monumental effort he heaved himself forwards, just managing to get his feet under him by leaning on his sword. Taking a steadying breath he forced himself to stand alone, sheathing his sword. Just to prove that he could. He half-smiled, half-grimaced in victory.

The effect was immediately ruined when his knees promptly buckled and he toppled straight into Leliana. 

Reflexively, she caught him under the arms, letting him steady himself against her so as not to fall straight back into the water. He didn’t need to see her face to know that she was worried.

“We need to get you back to camp.” Her steel tone once again laced with concern. 

“No,” he growled, struggling to force his legs to support him. He braced himself against Leliana’s shoulder, relying on her not-insignificant strength. “Not the forward camp.” 

“Cullen...” 

“The front line soldiers,” he gasped out, pain thundering through his head. He tried to shake it away, but the movement only made it worse. “Please, they… can’t see…” 

His voice failed him, but he hoped she understood. It wasn’t a matter of pride or prowess, though admittedly he didn’t particularly relish the idea of being seen in such a weakened state, it was about morale.

If his past experiences had taught him anything, it was that a soldier’s morale was about as fragile as it was necessary. The past few days had seen him do a lot of things in the name of keeping his soldiers standing strong. Things like leading every single push forward, no matter the time of day; like making sure he fought beside every man; like being seen and not just seen standing but seen fighting, seen winning, seen taking down behemoths with his own two hands. Little things like that mattered. His soldiers needed to see that he was one of them, but that he was also as invincible as they needed to believe they could be.

It had been almost impossible. He hadn’t slept in days, every muscle in his body ached, every bone. But he had seen the effect his presence had had on the men, seen the way they’d fought harder, longer, and so he’d dug deep, thanked the Maker for his Templar training, and persevered as only he could. 

He wasn’t going to undo all that work by stumbling into the forward camp, letting all those who had fought on the front line see him bleeding, weak and relying on Leliana. 

Luckily Leliana did understand. She wasn’t pleased, judging by the irritated huff that escaped her lips, but she threw his arm over her shoulder anyway and began leading him through the woods at that half walk half lumbering amble that was the hallmark of every injured man. 

As first he took care not to lean too heavily on her, but as they progressed through the wilds that soon became impossible to maintain. By the time they had circumnavigated the forward camp in favour of the rear, his head was pounding, his limbs were aching and his reliance on Leliana was almost absolute. 

“Oh Maker, what happened?” Josephine cried out, hurrying over to meet them as they stumbled past the outer defences and into the camp proper. “Are you all right? Is he all right?” 

He didn’t have the strength to answer her, or even the strength to protest as she immediately lifted his other arm over her shoulder and helped to take some of his weight. 

“He will live,” Leliana grunted, sounding understandably strained. “But we must get him inside.” 

Josephine nodded and together the three of them made their way awkwardly towards the nearest tent. He was sure Josephine was desperate to ask more of her burning questions, and he could feel her concerned glance upon him but thankfully she stayed silent as they crossed the camp. 

“Did the Inquisitor reach the temple?” Josephine burst out as soon as they had deposited him onto the cot. 

“Yes.” Leliana was still a little breathless. “Two or three hours ago.”

“The Templars are retreating,” he added, struggling to keep hold on consciousness. “Corypheus flew from the temple. His Templars followed… I am not sure why…”

The next thing he knew was waking in the cot, freed of his armour, a delightful coolness pressing itself against his head. 

“How long?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

The person tending him jumped, swatting him on the shoulder for scaring her. Her gentle Antivan accent gave him her identity. “Almost two hours.” 

Gingerly, he opened his eyes, expecting a bright white flash of pain that never actually came. It was darker now. Almost evening and if Josephine was tending him then… 

“The Inquisitor?” he asked, trying his best to control his rising panic. 

“We don’t know.” Her voice was quiet, her face twisted with worry and anticipatory grief. 

He took a moment to force aside the surge of protectiveness that would have seen him racing back to the temple, regardless of duty and sense. Instead considered the situation rationally. If she were still in the temple then the temple must be defended and… 

“News!” Leliana’s bright voice interrupted his train of thought. 

The lady herself followed soon after, bursting into the tent waving a parchment around. He was out of the cot before he even realised it, ignoring Josephine’s squawk of protest to snatch the parchment from Leliana’s hand. 

He recognised Evelyn’s handwriting immediately, which went some way to easing the tightness in his chest. 

“She’s at Skyhold,” he murmured, reading her letter so fast he barely understood the words. 

“How?” Josephine asked. She tossed the rag she’d been using to clean his wound into the bowl and thankfully seemed to give up on the idea of him resting further. 

“The Eluvian,” Leliana explained. “It seems they were able to pass through one in the temple and arrive through the one Morrigan keeps at Skyhold.” 

Cullen merely grunted at that. Magical ancient elven transportation, he couldn’t think of anything he trusted less. 

But at least she was safe behind Skyhold’s walls. 

“She wants to hold the temple,” he continued, now calm enough to actually read her words. “But I’ll see to the rest of the army’s return to Skyhold.” 

Leliana nodded. “I will send agents to track Corypheus’ Templars through the forest. Perhaps we can find his hideaway.” 

Josephine sighed. “And I will see to it that our allies leave telling tales of our glory.” 

“Don’t forget to include the part where our brave commander fought himself to exhaustion,” Leliana added a grin practically splitting her face in two “The Orlesians will love it.”

Josephine grinned as Cullen rolled his eyes and wisely ducked out of the tent before they could continue. 

The sooner he attended to his duties, the sooner he could return home to Skyhold.

And her.


End file.
